


Embrace

by heaven_s_gate



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trauma, crowley really thought zira fuckin died man, its been like a year now and i still cant get over that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23233885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heaven_s_gate/pseuds/heaven_s_gate
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley do not hug.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 102





	Embrace

Aziraphale and Crowley do not hug. 

They never have, not in over 6,000 years of friendship. Of course, there have been accidental brushes of sides and hands over the years, and, following the almost-apocalypse, subtle hand holding on a bus ride home, unable to look one another in the eye. 

But they have never _embraced_ , despite all this time. All the things they have done and seen and been through together. Even when they felt their hearts break at the actions of humanity at times. There was no comforting arms around one another to communicate that _hey, it's going to be alright, they'll right things eventually, you know they always do._  
They have always kept those few feet of distance between them, a way of plausible deniability should they ever been seen together. 

But, after Armageddon, it seems things are different. 

An angel and a demon step off of a bus, Aziraphale thanking the driver profusely for graciously making the detour to London for them, and Crowley looking away and wordlessly miracling a rather large tip into the man's wallet. They make their way up the stairs to Crowley's apartment in silence. There are so many things to say, and yet neither being can find a proper way to start.

Crowley launches himself at Aziraphale as soon as the door closes behind them. He wraps his arms around the angel's neck and shoves his face into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. Aziraphale startles and tenses up at first, _they don't do this_ , but he finds himself wrapping his own arms around Crowley's waist, pulling him closer.

"What's all this then?" Aziraphale asks gently. 

Crowley just nuzzles his face further into Aziraphale's collar, breathing a bit unsteady. His shoulders begin to shake. Aziraphale gasps and begins rubbing the demon's back and petting his hair, shushing him sweetly.

"It's alright my dear, I'm right here, it's okay, you can let it out," he breathes out into Crowley's hair. He begins to sob quietly. Aziraphale holds him tighter.

"Darling, my dearest, oh, let's sit down. Let me comfort you," Aziraphale says, gesturing towards Crowley's white leather couch. Crowley attempts to walk over to it, but his legs shake and he stumbles and almost falls. Aziraphale reaches for him, offering a steadying hand, and promptly hoists Crowley into his arms, bridal style. 

The demon looks positively bewildered for a moment, until Aziraphale sits down with Crowley in his lap. He resumes his position pressed into Aziraphale's neck, desperate to be as close to the angel as possible. Aziraphale dutifully pets Crowley's back and hair, whispering words of comfort and praise into his scalp.

"I don't know what exactly is wrong, my dear, but I will be here for you through it all. You are the kindest, most selfless being I have ever known and I _cherish_ your company," Aziraphale feels a bit choked up as he breathes the words, not wanting to offend Crowley or push too far but desperately feeling the need to tell him exactly how he feels. 

Crowley lifts his face to look him in the face, his serpentine eyes shining with tears. "I thought I lost you."

_Oh._

"Oh _Crowley_ ," Aziraphale breathes out, pulling the demon back into the embrace, pressing his cheek to the side of Crowley's, "You poor thing. I am so dreadfully sorry to have frightened you like that, I had almost forgotten. I am right here," he runs a soothing hand through his hair, "I am not going anywhere, I promise you."

Crowley whimpers, and begins to cry again. Aziraphale feels the tears begin seep through all the layers of his clothes and his heart aches. He begins to rock back and forth, as if comforting a child. He knows Crowley would find it rather demeaning if this were any other circumstance, but in this moment he is in quite a state. 

Quite some time later, he notices that Crowley's heart rate and breathing have slowed considerably. 

_Ah_ , he thinks, _he usually sleeps, doesn't he?_

Aziraphale lifts Crowley up once again, the demon making a confused "Hmh?" sound as he is carried. 

"Which way is your bedroom?" Aziraphale says. Crowley points him in the right direction. 

Gently, reverently, Aziraphale carries Crowley to his large, ornate bed and places him on the silk sheets. As Aziraphale leans up to exit the room, Crowley chokes out a panicked, "D-don't go...!" The angel pauses, looking over his dearest companion; a being usually so sure, so strong, reduced to a trembling, desperate creature. Aziraphale, in all his mercy, could never refuse such a plea.

"....okay. Do you want me to...sleep with you?" 

Crowley stiffens, flushing red. 

"Ah, not like that my dear. Would...would you like me to hold you?" Aziraphale all but whispers. Crowley ponders this for a moment, before giving a slow, shaky nod of his head. 

Aziraphale climbs into the bed next to his demon, pulls him close, and, for the first time in millennia, they embrace, and Aziraphale sleeps.


End file.
